


The Last Day of Winter

by casbean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Baker Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Cas has self esteem issues, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, I'm very bad at historical accuracy, Lonely Castiel, Lumberjack Dean, M/M, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, colonial time or whatever, team switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: Six months ago, Dean packed up and left for the endless forests of the far North. He took Castiel's heart with him, and sometimes Cas wonders if he'll ever get it back.





	The Last Day of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at doing historical research for stuff so this is set somewhere during colonial times and based on what I remember from school, a very very long time ago.

Castiel stirs the steaming stew and leans over to add a new log to the wood oven. Despite the spring slowly starting to change the landscape outside, the air in the house always remains cold and humid. He shivers.

Tomorrow, he'll need to go into the forest and take down a few trees, trim the branches and cut them into manageable logs to refurbish their dry wood stock. Sawing and chopping will be be a relief, he hopes, to his heavy heart; the physical exercise distracting him from the loneliness constantly staining his thoughts.

Sam, Jess, and their three children are wonderful people and Cas cherishes very dearly, but Dean, Dean is the sun; and with him gone, all light seems to have extinguished from Castiel's life. Between his ribs has set a void deeper than the oceans between the worlds, colder than all the ice of the Great Plains. 

Sometimes Cas wonders how he existed before Dean. How he managed to live, to breathe, to leave the warmth of the sheets every morning without Dean's hand in his, without his kiss lingering on his lips. But now he knows that without the idea of him, back home again one day, his heart wouldn’t go on beating.

Castiel sighs and thinks that at least tomorrow, out in the forest around the melting snow, he’ll feel a little bit closer to Dean. He looks forward to being alone in the silent woods with no other sound but the axe against the wood. Maybe he'll be able to forget, just for a moment, the thoughts storming and assaulting his mind at every waking moment.

The dangers of Dean’s job so far in the north; a tree falling and crushing his body, the low temperature, the isolation, and God knows what kind of beast that might be hiding back there. A thousand little accidents that could happen at camp, especially around all those dangerous tools. And then the long way back, Dean rushing down the river, both feet in precarious balance on those gigantic logs, risking falling, drowning, or worse -- getting caught between waves, no more than a wet puppet, bones cracking like twigs between the heavy trunks. 

Cas never wanted, never agreed to Dean leaving him like this. He knows it wasn’t Dean’s choice, or even his wish, but still. Sometimes - often, actually - he’s angry. Angry at Dean, angry at himself, angry at God, angry at this endlessly dangerous New World.

But in the dead of night, when he's clutching the cold pillow from Dean's empty side of the bed, it’s another kind of worry that creeps inside of Castiel’s mind. He knows it’s wrong, to have these doubts after everything Dean and he have been through together. After everything they’ve said and promised to each other.

But Cas can’t help it. Thirty men, isolated, yearning for their loved ones, cut out of any intimacy and touch for six long months... Thirty courageous, muscled, attractive men cramped up together in one tiny shack. What if Dean forgets about Castiel waiting for him at home, and finds comfort and happiness in the arms of another?

Cas hates himself for even daring to think Dean able of such a betrayal. But he wouldn’t blame him. Dean is a being of the sun, full of light and warmth, courage and strength. Castiel is nothing. He's weak. He's full of darkness and shame, he's merely the moon, alight only by the reflection of a brighter star.

Without Dean’s presence, without his constant reassurances, his touches and his kisses and his love, the void inside of Cas is spilling out. Tainting him and everything he touches. Cas is nothing worth coming back for, he's a leech that attached itself to a family that’s not even his own, to a man who he stole the light from. A man made from pure gold when Cas is just a lump of coal, burnt out and useless.

He thinks about that a lot, when Dean isn’t here. Dean makes those thoughts go away. But the cold winter and the empty bed and the loneliness and the people whispering around town, stealing preys from their traps, making them pay higher prices for sugar and wool, putting Cas out of business, it’s heavy on Cas’ shoulders. The guilt. It’s his fault, it’s what he’s done to the Winchesters. And Sam and Jess do see him, see his guilt and his shame. They try to lift the weight and let him know how much he’s loved and appreciated, but they’re not Dean. It’s not the same.

For the hundredth time today, Cas chases the thoughts and focuses back on his task. He smells the pan and scowls. The stew of vegetables and potatoes is the same as yesterday and the day before, and the same they’ll be eating for a long time still. The last one of their pigs died in the summer and the cows didn’t breed this year because of the limited fodder; it’s also why they’ve stopped giving them milk. The Winchesters don’t have the money to buy any new animals and Cas can barely buy enough flour to make bread for the whole family.

Castiel regrets the plentiful days of the past, when his bakery was filled with the smell of fresh pastry and sweet fancy delights. When cakes towered almost to the roof, and the smell of fresh bread lured in travellers from miles away to the little village at the foot of the mountain. But then the fur trade slowed down and the trading post closed upstream, soon followed by the inn, emptying the roads and rendering their village bare of income. Farmers and shopkeepers had to do what they could to supply for themselves, and delicacies like Castiel’s pastries became a luxury no one could afford.

Finding jobs in farms has been more and more difficult in the past few years, and Jess being the only healer in town and an extremely generous person, she often gives her services away for free. Sam is the only one who was able to keep a full-time job as an apprentice blacksmith, and Cas offered to help around the house, do the cooking and teach their children when both of their parents are off to work. With Jess' latest pregnancy and the debts still piling, Dean decided to follow the rumours about lumberjacks jobs in the north, and leave to go hale woods for the paper mills.

Cas felt like his heart had been ripped away the day he watched him leave.

When Dean comes back, if he does, he should bring with him sufficient money for the family to survive the spring, summer, and fall. Until then Sam, Jess, Cas, and the three children already born are left to push through the winter with very little resources. Every day is a fight, and every night Cas wonders how they’ll make it to the next morning.   

His only relief is to think that Dean should be home soon, although it might still be a few weeks. The snows lasted long this year and the river might not have defrosted enough yet to allow the men to bring the wood down as quickly as usual. Yet every time Cas sees a shadow looming outside, every time he hears steps behind the front door, his heart jumps and he races to the doorway in the hope of seeing Dean’s shape standing in front of him.

But it's never him.

 

Cas calls the children for dinner, and the sun sets without seeing the return of either Sam or Jess. The children go off to bed that all three of them share in the attic, jostling as they huddle up the stairs. Cas washes the wooden plates in the snow and then makes his way home, shivering in the cold, preparing for another lonely night in the bed he used to share with Dean in their small extension.

He’s refurbishing the oven when he hears steps coming up to the house. As always his heart bolts, his mind races. He already sees Dean opening the door, home, safe, and back to him. It’s always the same, the hope and the disappointment. The drop of his heart when Sam, or Jess, or a neighbour appears in the doorframe. So tonight Cas tries to tame himself, to tell himself that it’s not Dean - it’s never Dean. 

The door creaks open, a tall shadow walks in. 

Cas slowly turns around, ready to welcome whoever is standing there with the same affectionate smile despite the inevitable disappointment. When he finally sees who it is, his knees turn to cotton and his heart hammers up to the sky. 

It’s him.

Dean is standing in the dim light, the night deep and dark behind him, contouring his glowing apparition like a halo. He’s dirty, his face is eaten away by his weeks-old beard, his large stature muffled in a thick plaid coat, his face is hidden under a mutton hat and large boots on his feet. It could be anyone, any giant under all of those layers, but to Cas it’s unmistakable. Two green irises are beaming under the coarse eyebrows.

Before even thinking about it he’s jumping in Dean’s arms and they almost lose balance as their bodies collapse together. Dean’s arms grip under his thighs just in time. The familiar, warm laughter that erupts brings tears to Cas’ eyes.

The kiss is messy, scrapped lips and prickling beards. Cas presses his lips on Dean’s mouth, inhales his breath, drowns himself in his scent. He unties Dean’s scarf and buries his face in his neck, hooking his arms around Dean’s shoulders, thinking, for a moment, about never letting go of him again. Dean laughs some more, kisses every bit of him he can reach, and finally, with Cas still clinging onto him like a child, Dean wobbles to the table and sits them on a chair.

 

“Somebody missed me,” Dean fondly murmurs once they've caught their breaths.

Cas kisses him instead of answering, overwhelmed by his emotions. It's only hitting him now, how convinced he was he'd never get to see Dean again. He feels tears rolling down his cheeks, his thighs and arms shaking as he holds tighter to Dean. He's ashamed of breaking down like this in front of him. But Dean caresses his hair, kiss his forehead, holds his face between his large hands and presses an infinity of small, fluttering kisses on his lips. 

“You’re back. You’re _back_. You came back to me,” Cas repeats, endlessly, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart.

“Yeah, I’m back. I’m home, sweetheart,” Dean whispers, concerned, as he brushes a thumb on Cas’ cheek to dry them.

“I know, I - I’m sorry,” Cas mumbles. He tries to get a hold of himself. “I was - I thought-”

“Didn’t I promise you?” Dean gently interrupts.

Cas nods, and turns away, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder. He wants to tell Dean that a promise means nothing in this world, that humans are fragile creatures that a nothing can erase, and that it’s so easy to think that Dean is just too good to be true. That life must somehow repair the mistake, the impossibility of his existence, by removing him from Castiel’s life at one point or another.

“Talk to me, Cas.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if, even alive, you’d decided not to come back to a man who can’t even control his own tears, and cries like a maiden when he wakes up alone at night. I feared I wouldn’t hold comparison with all those courageous men who were risking their lives every day by your side."

Cas expects to hear Dean sigh, annoyed, or even to hear him confess to the materialization of all of his nightmares. But Dean’s arms don’t loosen their hold around him, and his nose gently nudges on Cas’ cheek.

“Cas.”

Cas turns his face further away, hiding his shame into Dean’s shoulder. He realizes that he’s acting like a child, only confirming that he isn’t manly enough, strong enough. But Dean doesn’t seem to see it that way. He tightens his arms around Cas' waist and speaks against the shell of his ear.

“Do you really think no one cried, out there? That no one broke down in the middle of the night when the fire died out? We were all there ‘cause we had people at home waiting for us. You should’ve seen those big manly guys out there, after fifteen hours chucking down trees. Choking back tears as they laid alone in their little pine bed, clutching a letter from their wife in their big dirty hands.”

Cas stays still, Dean’s burning breath on his neck. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels ridiculous, stupid, selfish. Fighting thirty years of hate, of being reproached his sensitivity, his delicacy, of being told he's not man enough for anyone to love. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand how Dean can have chosen _him_. 

“Maybe,” Dean continues, “maybe some guys tried to cheat their loneliness by doing unholy things to each other behind the trees. I wouldn’t be surprised. But that thought never even crossed my mind.”

Dean gently slides a finger under Cas’ chin, forcing him lift his gaze and meet his own.

“All I ever thought about - the only thing that kept me going out there - was the idea of coming home to you. You were all of my thoughts, all of my dreams, and seeing you again, holding you again - that’s what kept me warm at night.”

Dean doesn’t let Cas reply before he captures his lips again, and this time he’s the one shivering as he opens his mouth and exhales against Cas’ skin. And then he kisses his eyelids, and presses his lips on Cas’ forehead.

“And you can’t imagine how many times I’ve fell on my knees in front of a tree that just wouldn’t timber, exhausted out of my mind, and balled like a child while whispering your name over and over, trying to get myself back on my feet.”

“Dean-”

Dean washes away the pain from his eyes, dries out Cas’ tears, and raises a calm, serene look to him. 

“I’m home now. It’s all that matters.”

Cas nods and kisses him hard. When he pulls away to breathe Dean looks tired yet happy, delicate crescent lines forming on the corner of his eyes when he looks up to meet Castiel’s gaze. Just like before, just like always. Castiel helps Dean out his coat and boots, and then Dean draws him back in his arms.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmurs as he trails kisses from Cas’ ear to the dip of his collarbones. 

Cas shivers, fingers gripping in Dean’s hair, feeling Dean’s mouth sucking a bruise on his neck. Dean’s words have created a warm, shining sun inside his chest. He’s brimming with gratefulness for God, for Dean, for life.

“Bragged a lot about you, y’know,” Dean murmurs, pulling back from another heated kiss.

Castiel arches an eyebrow and looks at Dean skeptically, biting his swollen lips.

“Really?” 

“Mh-mh,” Dean smiles. He leans over to bite the soft flesh of Cas' neck, teasing with his teeth. “Told them how you always smell like sugar, cause you make the best cakes in the world.” He licks his way up to Cas’ jaw, humming his approval to mark his words.

“So you didn’t tell them you actually prefer pie?” Cas teases. He sucks in the lobe of Dean's ear, shivering at the growing pleasure in his lower belly.

“No, that’s our little secret. I think they were a little suspicious, until I told them about your big, firm breasts, and how soft they feel in my hands.”

Dean slides under Cas’ shirt, circling his thumb around his nipple until Cas whimpers and arches his back. As always, he trembles under Dean’s trained touch. 

“Did you tell them about my sweet ass?” Cas asks, breathless.

Dean laughs and slides his palms around the ass in question.

“Oh yeah. Told them _all_ about it.”

Dean's hands slip under the hem of Cas’ pants, fingers slipping between his cheeks, rubbing around his hole. Cas grinds back against him, whimpers, and sucks on Dean’s lower lip. His voice is hoarse when he speaks again.

“Bed?”

“Yeah. Just lemme go find Sammy, alright? Gotta tell my lil’ brother I’m back.”

Cas nods, containing his impatience. He knows how important this is to Dean. And Sam will probably be just as happy and relieved to have Dean home alive in one piece. He reluctantly stands up, and then brushes his fingers on the thick hair covering Dean’s jaw.

“Shave before you join me. I wanna see all of your freckles tonight.”

Dean smiles, promises, and with one last kiss to Castiel’s nose he walks out the door to find his brother. Cas brushes his fingers on his lips, where he can still feel the warmth of Dean’s mouth. He exhales what feels like six months of breath stuck in his lungs. His chest feels like exploding out of joy. It's too much for what he should be allowed to feel like, in his small human life on Earth. He cleans the kitchen and prepares for bed, lost between the memories of what they just shared and how much more they will share before the night is over.

The stove is almost empty and there’s no more dry wood left, which means they’ll wake up freezing, and Cas doesn’t know what they’ll eat tomorrow morning. But it doesn’t matter. He slides between the rough sheets with a fluttering heart and a grin on his lips, waiting for Dean.

 

When Dean finally enters the bedroom, Cas is laying completely naked under the covers. Dean’s eyes do not deviate from his as he slowly undresses himself, until he’s wearing nothing but undergarments.

Cas gazes along his naked legs and appreciates how his muscles have grown thicker due to the hard work. Dean’s face is now clean of his beard, and his freckles are dancing iin the candlelight. They smile at each other, impatient. Dean lifts the covers to slide next to Cas under the sheets, biting his lower lip as he notices Cas’ nakedness.

Cas shivers when Dean’s arms wrap around him. He buries his face in Dean’s neck, pressing his naked body as tight against him as he can. Dean lets his hands run down his sides, bringing up his thighs to embrace his own legs. 

“Your skin is cold,” Dean notices with dismay.

“Everything is cold when you’re not here,” Cas replies, and he slides his hand under Dean’s shirt to lift it up his shoulders. Finally the bare heat of Dean’s body wraps around him, and for a moment they lay still, intertwined, naked, pressed against each other. 

Dean lets out a soft moan as he breathes into Cas’ neck, his fingers gripped in his hair, his hard length pressed against Cas’ stomach.

“Missed you so fucking much,” Dean repeats. He bites on Cas’ neck, rubs his nose on his cheek. “Couldn’t even finger myself back there. Missed it. Missed you. Missed you so much, Cas.”

Dean’s hoarse and pleading voice travels through Cas’ body like waves. He flips Dean onto his stomach and settles himself between his open legs. Dean rolls his hips against the sheet, smiling at Cas from above his shoulder. Castiel’s throat blocks up, amazed by what’s in front of his eyes. 

Dean.

Dean, finally here, finally real, all flesh and bones and skin and freckles. Dean, warm, naked, offered to him in the bed they share again, finally.

Despite his the urgent call of his body, Cas wants -  _needs -_ to take his time with this. So he slowly massages the sore muscles of Dean’s back, kisses the golden dots scattered on Dean’s shoulders. His stomach presses on the small of Dean’s back, his nose brushes on Dean’s cheek, and it’s his turn to murmur about how much he missed him. He feels Dean sigh, moan, melt under his touch, murmuring his name against the sheets. Cas finds that feeling hooked in his stomach, the one he feels whenever he's around Dean. The certitude that this… is right. The most righteous thing in the world.

Cas greases his fingers with the little bowl of fat they keep in the nightstand and slides them into Dean with a surprising ease. Dean is eager, whining faintly, one hand gripped in the sheets above his head and the other one clutching Cas’ thigh. The fingers twitch and tremble every time Cas pushes and curves inside of him, extracting the most amazing sounds out of his heart-shaped lips. 

When Cas stands back, Dean lifts his hips and wraps a hand around himself, skin flushed, begging to be touched. Cas grabs the grease bowl again and coats himself, trembling with impatience. He feels like he could cry, just from the touch of his skin on Dean’s.

He grips tightly on Dean’s hips, fingers digging in the softer flesh around his waist, and bottoms down slowly. Dean whimpers, sound lost in the sheets, his knuckles turning white around the pillow. Cas leans forward and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder to stifle his sounds. He forgot how good, how warm, how incredibly tight Dean feels around him. He forgot about the pleasure it creates, a waterfall of heavenly heat; and most of all that connection, invaluable, to the man he loves.

Cas pauses for a moment, catching his breath, feeling Dean grasp and pulse around him. Dean says his name, begs him to move.  _Fuck me, Cas_.

It’s months of need, of cold, of despair that Cas bites into Dean’s shoulder, that he thrust inside of him. With every roll of their hips, he takes back the silence, the loneliness, the absence; with every wave of pleasure from his body to Dean’s, with their fingers digging in each other’s skins, they meet again; and with every muffled cry, with every push and every pull, he brings Dean home.

They peak together, fall together, crash against one another, until Dean stifles his scream into the sheets, tightening around Cas, bringing him over the edge too. Cas comes deep inside of Dean, pressed flush against his back, and when his head stops spinning, he lays on top of Dean for a moment, laying soft kisses on his lover’s shoulders. Finally they both roll over, still breathless, and Cas can look over at the place Dean has finally taken back into their bed.

The man is gorgeous, his skin gleaming under a fine layer of sweat. His eyes are soft, his cheeks flushed, face slack with the sated expression of a man who just came all over his own hands. The sheets are slightly wet, warm and sticky, but Cas doesn’t care and crawls into Dean’s arms. He thinks about all the night spent between dry and freezing sheets, missing this, missing their hearts beating against each other. How easy it is to feel like this moment, so intimate, so warm, so peaceful, could last forever.

“What about you?” Dean asks, breaking the silence. “Anyone interesting here? Did Pastor Crowley try to grab your ass again?” 

Like Cas earlier, Dean clearly makes an effort to sound casual, but the same worry pierces through his words. Cas tightens his arms around him, kissing his neck and his shoulder. 

“He actually gave me the impression of missing _you_ more than wanting me.” 

He feels Dean smile against his cheek, his fingers running distractedly up and down Cas' spine. When he speaks again his tone has lost any trace of amusement.

“I was scared too, you know.”

Cas stretches up to look into Dean’s eyes, filled with a fear he didn’t expect. He doesn’t realize at first what Dean’s talking about.

“Scared?”

“Yeah. That I’d come back and you’d… moved on. Found someone... smart, like you, not just a dumb guy like me. Someone who likes cake,” Dean adds, with a half sincere smile.

The idea, completely new to Castiel, of Dean actually worried - _scared_ \- that he could seek someone else, is so ridiculous, so completely laughable, that for a moment Cas doesn’t know how to answer. 

In all of his worries about Dean, never once did it come to his mind that he could worry the same about Cas. For anyone else, the idea of Dean worrying about _him_ wouldn’t be completely nonsensical. But for Cas, being with Dean is not about being with someone, it’s not about companionship or love or… it’s not even about sex. It’s just about _Dean_ , and there is no other Dean in the world, and therefore, he has no interest in anyone else.

But he realizes now that Dean doesn’t know that, not all of it anyway. Dean was a thousand miles away, scared, wondering if he’d come home to find Cas had moved on. If he'd finally decided that this miserable village life was not enough, that Dean wasn’t worth the wait or the suffering, and all he had lost. 

Dean has said many things to reassure Cas earlier, and now Cas wants to do the same. He wants to tell Dean _everything_. 

“All my life, as you know, I was raised to believe that touching another man would mean that after my death, I would spend _eternity_ in a place called Hell.” Cas begins. “I resisted this desire for a long time, because I was afraid of the sin, of the punishment. I was… extremely lonely. No one seemed worth the fall and the eternal suffering. But then…” 

Cas pauses, tightening his hold around Dean, who is listening with attention and a slight worry in his eyes. 

“…then, you. You were so… different. And when I finally touched you, I thought that instead of Hell, I had found Heaven.”

Dean’s lips twitch into a small smile; he kisses Cas’ fingers, the inside of his palm. His eyes, that Cas has learned to read so well over the years, are saying _I thought that too_.

“These last six months, alone here, without you… I have been more unhappy than I had ever been before, I think. I was scared, hungry, cold, worried that I would never see you again-” Dean braces himself closer, his eyes brimming with apologies, but Cas doesn’t let him interrupt. “I think I came close to seeing what the Church means, when they talk about _Hell_.”

Dean’s voice breaks down. “Cas…” His words block in his throat, his thumb brushes the hair away from Cas’ forehead.

“But however terrible Hell might be, however cold, however lonely, or however burning; however _long_ eternity is…” Cas strokes the pad of his fingers on Dean's cheek. His tone softens as he lets his words roll into Dean’s ears. “You are worth it. For what you have given me here, on this Earth, _you_ are worth anything. I’d take eternity in Hell for you, Dean Winchester.”  

Dean is speechless but his lips tremble. Never have those kinds of words been exchanged between them before. Cas realizes that somewhere in his mind he thought that loving so much could destroy him, or destroy Dean, that men like them weren’t made for this. That their lives on this Earth were too small to contain so much. Dean felt the same, Cas knows it, he heard it in all those silences between them when they used to lay, post coitus, and hold each other. Clinging to the other and to those silences to keep them from falling through the cracks.

Dean kisses Cas’ forehead, still for a long time, his hand warm on the back of Cas’ head. He murmurs the sacred words, rare and precious but suddenly falling out of his mouth, repeated in a whisper, over and over and over. 

Then he kisses Cas like he did the first time, like they'd only ever get one. He doesn’t say anything more, there’s no need. All has finally been said. Their heavy hearts have been lifted of some of their weight, and Cas knows they have sealed something, threw in a _forever_ in between them. A promise of faithfulness, of love, more sacred even than the vows that rise to the roof of a church.

 

“Ready for another one?” Dean murmurs.

Cas nods, smiles, allows the heavy weight of Dean to roll on top. Dean searches for his lips, sliding his hands down to caress him slowly. Most of the foreplay would come later, when there’d be more time to enjoy each other. Tonight it’s all about haste, about need.

“I touched myself thinking about you every night,” Cas confesses into Dean’s burning ear. “I kept myself open, waiting for you to come back.”

Dean grunts, biting harshly onto Cas’ shoulders, body tensed with desire. He pushes Cas’ thighs up, his pupils swollen into dark moons, easing two of his fingers inside of Cas to appreciate his tightness. Cas’ mouth falls open, but the pleasure is brief; Dean wants to take him now, and Cas is more than okay with that.

Dean eases in slowly, resting his weight between Cas' open thighs. His eyes don’t leave Cas’ for a second, and Cas moans from the rough burn, the painful stretch, his eyes filling up with tears. But much more than the pain, it’s the relief that is almost making him cry. His whole body is taken by pleasure as Dean fills every emptiness, pressing his body down on him, sealing away the memories of this terrible winter forever.

They move like young lovers, intertwined, pressed flush against each other, stifling their moans into each other’s necks. Cas’ pleasure hits him in waves filled with emotion. He savours every second of their beat, every brush of Dean’s fingers on his cheeks, every press of his lips, every lick of his tongue.

He’s surrounded by Dean’s scent, spicy, musky, and so deliciously familiar. The slow roll of Dean’s hips pushing hard inside of him, the warm and soft skin of his stomach, rubbing tight against Cas’ cock. He nips on Dean’s skin, sucks his taste between his lips, ears filled with Dean’s low grunts.

Dean moves excruciatingly slow, long thrusts that send crashing shivers of heat up and down Castiel’s body. His thighs tremble around Dean’s waist, his nails dig long trails into the freckled skin. Again, they tip over the edge together, eyes wide open and eyelashes tickling each other’s cheeks. 

When Cas falls asleep, exhausted, heavy, surrounded by Dean’s presence, the morning light is already creeping through the small window. He smiles, Dean’s weight heavy and stifling on his chest. 

Winter is over, his waiting is done. Dean is finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here](http://casbeanie.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://casbean.tumblr.com/)


End file.
